A Harvest of Hope (34 page)

Miriam folded the dress roughly on her lap. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did you know you were in love with Haakan? I mean, I know it was a long time ago, but . . .” She dropped her gaze to the folded dress, then looked up to Ingeborg again. “Trygve tells me he loves me, and I am sure he does.” She fingered the carved wooden heart she wore except when she was on duty. “I . . . I know I am attracted to him, but marriage is forever, and I don't want to make a mistake. I want what my mum and da had and what I saw you and Haakan living out so beautifully. But, Ingeborg, I've seen so many horrible ones too. Marriages that seemed perfect and then dragged both parties down to hell.”

Ingeborg swallowed the lump growing in her throat. “This
is such a hard question to answer. My first husband, Roald, died, along with Kaaren's husband, Carl, and their two little daughters. She and I, well, only through the grace of God did we make it through that winter. And then Lars Knutson came along and married Kaaren—that helped. Then one day another Bjorklund man strode across the plains. He was a cousin to Roald and Carl, and his mother had told him some family needed help. He planned on going back to lumber country when winter came, but he never did. I'm not sure how much I loved him in the beginning, but he was so kind and willing to help us, it seemed natural to say yes to marriage. Oh, but our love grew deeper through the years. He was such a man of God, how could I not love him?”

She mopped the tears trickling down her face. “Trygve is a lot like Haakan, Miriam. A fine man who will become even more of a man of God. When I see the two of you together, it is like two puzzle pieces that fit. A glow seems to surround you.” She patted Miriam's hand. “I know that is a long story and is not really your answer, but I do know this: God will make it clear to you when you ask.”

“But what if you have a hard time believing that God really does exist, let alone cares about the daily things of our lives?”

Ingeborg looked deep into Miriam's eyes, now swimming in tears also, and took her hands. “He will make himself known to you if you just keep asking. I love the verse ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.' I have so been depending on that promise these last months. With all my being, I know it to be true.”

“I'd like it to be true.”

“Just ask.”

Patches barked his way off the porch and down the lane.

Ingeborg stood up. “Manny and Emmy are home.”

“How do you know?” Miriam stood as well, gathering her gifts to her breast.

“That's his family bark, and it's time.”

“Coffee's ready,” Freda announced from the kitchen.

Ingeborg hugged Miriam. “All will be well.”

That night, as every night, Ingeborg closed her day with a well-worn prayer.
Lord, calm all the turmoil in Blessing and bring
us peace this Jule season.

M
iriam was near tears, her eyes hot. She had been this way all day. They were gathered at Ingeborg's home, in the parlor around the candle-lighted pine tree, laughing, digesting a splendid feast, telling tales, relating reminiscences. It was all very enlightening, and Miriam was learning much about Trygve's family. What extraordinary people!

But she was not home. Wonderful food but not the table around which her family gathered. Lovely people, the Bjorklunds, but she wanted to be among the Hastings. This was Christmas Day. She should be in Chicago, not Blessing. What was Truth doing now? Did she miss her big sister the way Miriam missed her little sister? Ah, well. Very shortly now she would complete her training. Next year the family could be together again for Christmas. Whether here or there, it didn't make any difference. Not being with the other Hastings on Christmas Day made an immense difference.

And this Bjorklund-Knutson clan was so close too, so much like Miriam's family in that regard. Late last evening after church, Thorliff had driven the wagon from house to house, gathering up chairs and rockers and bringing them here to Ingeborg's. Now everyone had a place to sit, to be comfortable, with all the children on the floor. He had brought in extra dishes as well, so that all could be served.

This was not at all like Thanksgiving. On that holiday, each household had celebrated separately. Today, they all gathered as one huge happy mob.

Beside her, Sophie asked, “Why so glum?”

She forced a smile. “Sorry. I was thinking about my family.”

Sophie nodded, smiling, and patted her arm. “I figured as much. Trygve often says how closely knit your family is. That is one of the many things he loves about you. Family. And loyalty. What would they be doing now?”

She thought a moment and burst out in a laugh. “Exactly what we are doing here! Gathered in the parlor after dinner, chattering and telling stories. There would not be nearly so many of us, of course.” At least it was like that in the years before her father died and her family moved to the tenements. This year . . . She could hardly bear the thought of her brothers and sisters alone in that miserable place. She deliberately closed that door in her mind and paid attention to here.

At her other side, Trygve laughed. “We are getting to be quite a clan, aren't we.” And indeed the room was about as full as a room can get, and all of them were talking cheerily. His parents and brother and sisters—all the Ingeborg-and-Haakan children, their spouses and children—my goodness. With six Hastings children, Miriam's family would probably expand like this someday. If they were all able to be together again.

Daniel was saying, “I'm glad the phone service is finally back. Sure, we got along without it, but it's a mighty great convenience. Jonathan, your father is talking about investing in a phone company here in Blessing.”

Jonathan nodded. “He is certain that investments in this area will bring great returns. So many people are moving here, and there are so many opportunities.”

Thorliff smiled grimly. “We can use the development money. That's for sure.”

Andrew had been watching out the window. “The weather is
really getting worse. The snow is back, and the wind is rising.” At least they had milked early, so the chores were all finished before supper.

The phone rang . . . speaking of telephone service.

Ingeborg sat nearest. She got up and answered. Voices quieted down in the room a little. Not much.

She was grinning as she looked around the room at no one in particular. “Of course, Mary Martha, I'll give them all your warmest Christmas wishes. Certainly. And a very blessed Christmas to you all as well.”

“Solbergs,” Sophie murmured. “Some of her family even came for Christmas.”

Ingeborg listened in silence for a moment. She lost the smile. Then she gasped and cried, “Oh no!” Everyone in the room fell silent.

“Yes! Yes, right now! Good-bye!” Ingeborg hung up. “That little cousin of Henrik Helder just rode into town to the Solbergs' house. There's a fire out on the Helder farm. He says there are injuries! John and the men were running out the door as Mary Martha hung up!”

“So are we!” Thorliff grabbed his coat off the peg and ran out, followed by all the other men. Even Manny clumped out the door with his cane.

Astrid leaped to her feet. “Miriam, go to the hospital and make certain it is ready to receive casualties. I believe Corabell is the only one on tonight. I'll go out to the Helders' place. It sounds like they might need me.” She ran for the door, scooping up her bag.

Ingeborg called, “I'll be right behind you. We'll bring food and coffee for the fire fighters!”

Miriam watched in amazement. Everyone just sort of knew what had to be done and then did it. This small-town living was
so
different from city life!

Ingeborg, Kaaren, Sophie, Anji, and Ellie filled baskets with food, grabbed the coffeepot, and ran out the door.

Elizabeth stood up and waddled toward the door. She pointed toward the coat pegs. “Miriam, my coat, please. And get yours also.”

Miriam grabbed the coats and returned to her, holding Elizabeth's for her, helping her slip into it. She shrugged into her own coat. They hurried out into the night.

The only buggy left was Andrew's. In the light from the front window, Elizabeth climbed up over the wheel. “Untie the horse.”

Miriam did. She looped the lead line over a place on the harness as she had seen others do and climbed up the wheel. “This should prove interesting. I've not driven a horse before, ever.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I certainly have.” As Miriam settled in beside her, hanging on for dear life, Dr. Elizabeth flapped the reins and clucked. The horse lurched forward through the snow.

Driving out the lane was easy, for the other sleigh and wagon tracks had broken a path through the new snow. When Elizabeth left that path and continued toward the hospital, the buggy slowed down and the little horse struggled through knee-deep snow.

Blurred by falling snow, the sky out to the west beyond the horizon glowed faintly. The way the fires in town had looked was still fresh in Miriam's memory, and that was not how this fire looked. This one was yellower, and you could not see the smoke. As Miriam's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could just make out lantern-lit sleighs or wagons in the middle distance driving toward the glowing spot.

“I'm afraid our winter will be very unpleasant compared to what you are used to.” Elizabeth was peering ahead, but how could she see? Snow swirled in the frigid wind and near darkness.

“When winter comes screaming off the lake in Chicago, you learn what unpleasant is.” Miriam was afraid she would lose her grip and tumble off. The buggy was bouncing a lot, and quite possibly had left the road without their knowing it.

They entered town and Elizabeth drew the horse alongside the hospital. Miriam hopped down. She ran to the horse's head
and held it as Elizabeth very slowly and clumsily got her feet over the side. She reached the ground, said “Oh!” and clutched her belly. She stood there for a moment, then slogged through the snow to the door. “Just leave the horse.”

Miriam left the tuckered-out horse to its own devices and ran ahead to open the door for Dr. Elizabeth. They hurried inside, slamming the door.

Welcome warmth embraced them.

“Make certain the ward and examination rooms are prepared. We can anticipate burns and smoke inhalation, possibly fractures.” Elizabeth headed for the first exam room.

Miriam ran to the nurses' station. Where was Corabell? Dare she call loudly? She might disturb the few patients sleeping. She could not see from the records where Corabell might be, so she ran to the kitchen.

She was at the table, hunched over a cup of tea with a shawl thrown across her shoulders. She yelped and jumped when Miriam burst in the door.

“Come!” Miriam turned and ran back out. She scooped up extra gauze bandaging and dressings from the supply closet. Burns? They would need carbolic acid, plenty of it. She carried the additional supplies into the first examination room and stopped cold.

Dr. Elizabeth was hunched over the examination table moaning, both arms wrapped across her belly.

Miriam dumped her load on the side table, stepped in beside Elizabeth, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Doctor?”

She was panting. Then she gave a long wailing cry. If people had been sleeping, they weren't now. “Oh, God! No! Not now!” Another wail in spite of herself.

Miriam waved a hand. “Her feet!” She and Corabell gripped Elizabeth's feet and levered her up onto the examination table. She instantly curled up on her side. Her face was grim and ghastly white.

“Her water just broke!” Corabell sounded frantic.

“We'll undress her and wrap her in blankets.”

Easy to say, very difficult to do. Miriam so wanted to just cut the dress and petticoats off her, but these were her best holiday clothes. They must not damage them. It took what seemed a terribly long time. They tucked absorbent pads under her to soak up the blood about to be spilled.

Corabell still sounded frantic. “What if the baby is coming right now?”

“I heard her other pregnancy took many hours. So we have time yet. Dr. Astrid and Ingeborg will be here as soon as they can, and they'll take over.”

“But what if they don't?”

Miriam didn't want to think about it. She should, however, gauge just how much dilation had occurred so far. She soaked her right hand thoroughly in carbolic acid and carefully began an examination. This was so strange, so frightening. This was her doctor, her instructor, and here was Miriam doing the examination. Cautiously she palpated, probing the cervix, and gasped. Elizabeth was opening right up! Five centimeters at least, perhaps more! Miriam's four fingers barely spanned the cervix.

“Help me! Help!” The voice was a man's, and it was out in the hallway.

Wide-eyed, Corabell looked at Miriam, then rushed out.

And Miriam was alone with a woman who was about to give birth, a woman who had very nearly died during her first pregnancy. And this was the one case of all Miriam would ever treat that she dare not mess up.

She set up the makeshift blocks that served as stirrups and guided Elizabeth's heels onto them. Elizabeth screamed again, flailing her head. The contraction lasted much longer than normal.

Miriam grabbed Elizabeth's hand in both of hers. “Please remember that God is in control. You know what Dr. Astrid and
Ingeborg say. God knows the situation.” Many times Miriam had heard Astrid's mother use that promise.

“Yes.” Elizabeth squeezed her hands and relaxed a little. Her face softened. “Yes. He is in control. It is so easy to forget that.”

God is in control. Oh, how I
wish that were true!
But Miriam could not accept that.

Not after so much suffering and loss.

He was vindictive, or He had a malicious sense of humor, or He was not there at all.

“I need Ingeborg! Astrid! Oh, God!” Elizabeth arched in another contraction.

“They said there are injuries. They'll want to stay with the patient and get to the hospital quickly, so they will be here any moment.” Through snow. Of course. Any moment.

Was the baby coming? Miriam must check. She released Elizabeth's hand and looked. Her heart nearly stopped! God in control? Hardly!

For a tiny foot had presented. A foot! One foot!

Miriam felt panic rush through her. She had read in a textbook about breech births, but she had never seen one, never been trained for one. And Elizabeth's baby was not only very early, it was breech! She was going to lose them both!

Oh, God, please! Please exist
! Please help!

“It's coming! I can . . . Oh! O-o-o-ohh!” Elizabeth wailed, a long endless wail. Her body went so tight and rigid that her hips lifted off the table.

Miriam was quite slight, with very small, delicate hands. She knew she had to act through instinct. If she listened to reason, she would curl up in a corner sobbing. She shoved her right sleeve up to above her elbow. She snatched up a bottle of carbolic acid, the whole bottle, and poured it on her hand and arm, all the way to the elbow, slathering it all in disinfectant. Her arm tingled and burned.

Then she straightened her fingers, drew them together, and
managed to follow that tiny leg up the birth canal to solid, ungiving bone. The foot disappeared inside. She could not be sure, but it felt as though the baby was pressing sideways against the floor of the pelvis. It was not going to go any farther without help.

She could not reach farther. She should not be this far, and yet . . . was this the other leg? She could not get above the ring of bone, nor should she. But if this was . . . A forever moment, a moment that was hours long, and by poking and prodding she could draw that second leg down. The baby was still positioned wrong, head up instead of down, feet first instead of head first, but both feet were now in the birth canal.

Elizabeth was not suffering contractions. This was one single endless contraction, exquisite pain that did not end, did not pause. She was bleeding freely now. Oh, if only Miriam could help her in her agony!

She did not dare tug on the baby either. She remembered being taught,
“It is so tempting to
try to help things along by pulling, but never ever
do it.”
She withdrew and washed her hand and arm in disinfectant again, in case she needed to go back.

The feet appeared. Now a new set of emergencies began. The baby in the birth canal, especially as it passed down through the pelvis, was pressing its cord flat. The baby and its cord did not both fit. No circulation and no air, when a baby normally would be able to reach air. What did the midwife do in that case? Miriam had no idea whatsoever.

The tiny buttocks appeared, but they were the narrowest part of the torso. They presented no problem. The shoulders did. The head certainly did.